


The Stages of Misery

by Silva_13



Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Allergies, Cats, DarkHawk, M/M, Mood Swings, Sickfic, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:35:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22861864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silva_13/pseuds/Silva_13
Summary: "... And if Ross Poldark hated one thing, it was being vulnerable..."
Relationships: Jim Hawkins/Ross Poldark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15
Collections: GatheringFiKi - Winter FRE 2020





	The Stages of Misery

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for prompt Nr 9 "Someone gets a cat. The other has allergies" in the GatheringFiKi WinterFRE2020.
> 
> I'm sorry, this might not be what the prompter had wished for. This is also unbeta'd, and therefore probably full of mistakes (plus, the plot is ridiculous and maybe a little cross.... hahaha). *runs and hides away*

"Haa-haaa...haaachooooo.....he-heetsheeewwww......heeh-CHOOO..."

Jim, who just had entered the house through the front door, froze. What was that? It couldn't... God no, please not that again. But the foghorn-like blow, which followed along with a distressed groan, was all he needed to confirm his concerns. Obviously Ross had fallen ill. Again. He only had recovered from he flu not even two weeks ago. Obviously, his latest business trip, from which he had only returned a few hours ago, hadn't done him any good. Now, of all times, when he had actually some news for him and his cooperation was needed.

He could already picture him; not only sick, but furious and insufferable. Ross Poldark, junior director of his father's company and used to function at all terms, no matter how repugnant the conditions might be, was used to stand his man, back always straight, head held up high; unbreakable and unbent. Being sick was not a thing he allowed himself, already dealing with health issues anyway and seeing it as a weakness. And if Ross Poldark hated one thing, it was being vulnerable.

So whenever Ross got sick, the world came to an end. It wasn't that he was whiny or demanding attention. It was more that his usual broody self, innately impatient and short-tempered, was spiralling down into an incredible bad mood, verging on destructive and explosive. Dealing with sickness usually resulted in a thunderstorm of terrible mood swings, ill temper and annoyance, which pushed everyone, who happened to be near him, to his limits. Whoever had the bad luck to cross his path while he was suffering from illness, did best to duck and hide away.

Not Jim though. He was used to Ross’s stormy temper and perfectly able to deal with it. In fact, he thought it quite amusing, knowing the groaning and raving brunet was actually quite the teddy bear; a teddy bear with bad mood swings. And a bad cold, he internally added after another set of wet sneezes sounded from the living room. He sighed and decided to give in to his fate. The evening seemed already ruined, given the fact that Ross would barely be able to celebrate their reunion properly. So why not stepping into the lion's den directly?

And what a sight said lion, or better teddy bear how he secretly called him, offered. His face red and puffy, eyes bloodshed and swollen, kleenex, apparently stuffed into the blazing red nose to keep the fluids from flowing, sticking out of the nostrils like the tusks of an elephant. And an elephant it was what Jim had to think of when Ross blew his nose with a trumpeting sound. He snuffled miserably and blew his nose again, producing a noise sounding like a toilet being flushed. That was bad.

He braced himself, and stepped into the living room.

"Are you alright?"

It was meant to get a conversation started, but Ross immediately jumped at the rhetorical question, gesticulating dramatically towards his face while he groused, although the congestion was taking the fierceness from his voice.

"Do I look alright to you? 'By face is explodi'g every 5 seco'ds add there's a literal waterfall the scale of the Iguazú Falls streami'g out of 'by 'dose. Add you're aski'g if I'b alright?"

Jim couldn't help but snicker at the picturesque wording his boyfriend used, getting all dramatic and fatalistic. Oh, how he loved his little drama queen, especially on days like these, when he actually needed a hug, but was doing his best to prevent people from doing exactly that, so he could wallow in his self-pity a little longer.

He still seemed to be in stage two, the grumpy phase. If Ross ever learned he had named the 'Stages of Poldark's Misery', how he called his emotional metamorphosis during sickness, his boyfriend would rip his head off. Apparently, he had already passed phase one; denial. That was, when Ross started to feel unwell and refused to accept it as long as he could.

"What happened?"

Ross rolled his eyes and glared spectecularly at the blond, who looked as innocent as he could. He made a note to himself to not provoke Ross too much, as there still was something he had to tell him about. And he needed him in a good mood for this.

"What does it look like to you? I've certai'dly 'dot broke'd' 'by foot!"

The cynical stage, indicating an even higher level of disstress. That was fast. He knew Ross would have continued his rant, if he hadn't been too busy with another sneeze, which sent the tissue rolls flying out of his nostrils like projectiles. He was still burying his tortured nose in a fresh kleenex, when he mumbled, "appare'dtly I've caught a'dother fucki'g cold. 'Bust've bee'd the fucki'g air co'dditio'd. It's bee'd bloody freezi'g, but I was fi'de' u'til I arrived ho'be ... add ... fuck … add.... "

He tilted his head back, breath hitching and nostrils quivering, before he was overtaken by another bout of sneezes, leaving him moaning and cursing in between. The swearing phase; another step of Ross’s very own way of dealing with unwelcome events.

"I ca'dt believe I'b sick agai'd. It's 'dot eve'd three weeks that I was down with the flu. It' so u'dfair."

Jim, knowing his boyfriend was on his way to the last stage, did his best to help with the unpleasant situation. Besides, he still wanted something from Ross, so the tamer he was the better.

"My poor baby. I promise, I'll make you as comfortable as possible, although my plans for you had been different tonight, to be honest."

"I 'dow, sorry."

Ross gave him the most pityful look he had ever seen; his puppy eyes puffy and red. The pouting phase; the worst. It was reached, when he finally gave in to the battle and accepted his fate, being all illness-stricken and suffering from that point on. Ross going through his usual stages of misery so fast, could only mean one thing. He must feel incredibly awful, submitting defeat so easily.

"How about some nice tea and a hot bath? Then I'll make you soup?"

Suddenly he lid up.

"And then, then I'll tell you about the newest addition to our household...."

"I'b sorry, Ji'b, but I'b 'dot too i'dterested to hear about a'dother high-end kitche'd device you've bought. I'b' bore ... 'bore co'dcerned with... with.... ha... haa- haaachooooo!"

The sneeze had his limbs flailing and head snapping forward. Another wet blow and series of miserable sniffles later, he laid back, a kleenex in his hand, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Fuck, 'by throat's all tight. Add I'b all itchy. You thi'gg one ca'd get co'dju'ctivitis from air co'dditio'd too? Cause I could scratch 'by eyes out."

He sniffled through the entire sentence, trying to keep the liquid from streaming down his nostrils. In the end he stuffed them with tissues again, looking ridiculously cute; at least in Jim' s eyes. The latter, having observed his love during the last thirty minutes, protocolling each of his symptoms and ailments meticulously, had started to wonder and question the cause of the illness a while ago. The last time he had seen Ross in such a state had been on their very first date almost two years ago. In the park. In spring; the most murderous season for the brunet.

"You're sure this is a cold? I mean, might also be an allergy?"

For some reason, this question had jump Ross several steps back down to stage two, causing a tantrum-like outburst. Jim was on the verge of laughing, but did his best to hide it.

"Allergies, are you kiddi'g 'be? Ca'd you see a'dy polle'd flyi'g through the air outside?"

He gesticulated widely towards the window, where the snow-capped trees were swaying in the wind.

“No, but...”

“Or did you hide a patch of grass u'der the couch? A'dy hidde'd flowers? So’be birch twigs?”

"No, Ross. I only thought you're unusual snotty and blodgy....”

“Maybe you've see'd a cat walki'g through the house?”

“A cat?" Jim blinked owlishly, confused at the topic change, as he still hadn't told Ross. How could he know?

“A cat, yes...h-hee..."

His breathing hitched again and he tilted his head back, exposing his neck and his quavering nostrils before his head and upper body snapped forward with another moist" heetssheeeww."

He groaned.

"The 'bere thought 'bakes ‘be s'deeze."

The following sniffle made Jim cringe while he slowly connected the dots.

"Are you telling me, you're allergic to cats?”

“Why would I 'dot?”

"I didn't know!"

The exasperated gasp would have had Jim's alarm bells ringing, if it hadn't been so raspy.

“Fuck Jim, I'b a walki'g histami'dic overreactio'd being allergic to al'bost everythi'g, add if there's somethi'g I'b 'bost allergic to, it's cats... h-he-heetsssshhhooo...Why...ha-haaachooo... Dammit! Why is that eve'd importa't?"

Jim pailed and was looking for a nice way to bring up the one thing he had tried to tell Ross during their entire conversation, preparing for the inevitable outburst. He decided against beating about the bush, it would only make things worse.

“Because there's an actual living and breathing cat in the house?"

Ross opened his mouth to say something, but got interrupted by another wet sneeze, clinging desperately to the paper tissue he was holding. He tried two more times but wasn't able to manage a full sentence, as he was overtaken by a violent sneezing fit, leaving him barely able to breathe. So Jim took his chances and continued, pausing during the sneezes, so Ross could hear him.

"Silver got a cat three months ago. He had to leave for his parents' hometown yesterday at short notice, because his father is in hospital. So I volunteered in taking it in for a while. There wasn't any time to ask you, because you've been busy with your meetings and I know you don't like being interrupted while at work. I'm so sorry! I really didn't know!"

His exploding nose still kept Ross from responding much. He could only force a few words out between all the sneezes and sniffles.

"Wh ... where?"

"Right now in the office. But it has been around here as well."

Jim noticed that he had started to wheeze, which was indeed alarming. Once Ross's breath got obstructive, medical treatment was essential.

"Are you...... kiddi'g... me?... Cad't believe...... I .... cad't... You have to... I ... I ca'dt stay...here..." 

"No, definitely not! Fuck, let me think of something. You need a safe place to stay while I bring the cat somewhere else and clean the house. Uuhhm, you think you could stay with Dwight and Caroline?"

Ross, barely able to catch another sneeze in a fresh tissue, nodded hectically.

"... Thi...thi'gg so... "

~~~

Jim, who didn't like the turn for the worse Ross's condition had taken, was glad when Dwight welcomed them at his door half an hour later. Conveniently, their best friend was also a doctor and therefore probably able to help Ross without getting him to the hospital. Because that was something his boyfriend would never forgive him. Thankfully, Dwight had let his original intention go, which indeed had been an acute clinic admission, when he saw his friend being practically carried up the stairs, with his spastic breath coming short. But as long as Ross was able to argue and still had the strength for snarky remarks, it couldn't be vital, he reckoned, although he sneezed his head off and gasped for air like a dying cow.

"The good stuff is at home anyways, love."

Caroline smiled her sweetest smile, when she gently coaxed Dwight towards the bathroom, where he kept the intravenous antihistamines and steroids for occasions like these. With a best friend being highly allergic to almost everything, one did better to be prepared. In the meanwhile Jim had settled Ross on the bed in the spare room and was looking for a good place to set up an IV. Not that Ross was allowing him.

"Last ti'be I was black add blue!"

"Yes, because you were fidgeting as fuck and popped the vein. Now, hold still."

Caroline brought the equipment and the IV was set up in no time.

"Outstanding work, Dr. Hawkins."

Another one of Caroline's sweet smiles and even Ross was tame as a lamb. At work, she had the entire A&E wrapped around her finger. No wonder, Dwight had fallen hard for her.

"As much as I appreciate your praise, Caroline, it's still only nurse Jim," the blond laughed.

Not even five minutes later, Dwight entered with three different syringes and a electrolyte solution on a metal tray.

"Ready to rumble, mate?"

"Do I have a choice?" Ross groaned and held out his arm, giving Dwight access to the IV.

~~~

Knowing Ross was being taken care of perfectly, Jim went back home to clear up the mess he had made, shaking his head in disbelief that he hadn't even as much as thought of Ross possibly being allergic to cats. Dammit, he really could have known. But on the other hand, it was nothing he could change by now. He was glad everything had turned out well, and nothing worse had happened besides a few outbursts of his boyfriend's short temper (which he still found cute, but wouldn't tell him).

Thinking about the outright terrible mood Ross had been in, Jim couldn't help but admire the fact he had not once made any reproaches or accusations towards him, although he had caused all this.

~~~

Two hours later, Dwight called to inform him that Ross was doing better and finally had fallen asleep due to the side effects of the antiallergic triple therapy. He was expected to be out cold for quite a while, before the aftermath of the treatment would run its course.

"You know he's not doing well with cortisone, don't you? You'd better call Joshua and tell him. He might not be able to work for a few days, I guess."

Jim sighed, knowing all too well how depressive Ross got, whenever he had to be treated with that particular medication. It was a known side effect, but his boyfriend was really having a hard time with it. The last time, he couldn't get out of bed for two weeks, and hadn't been able to take care of himself properly even longer.

"Already done. He didn't count on him anyways, since he obviously called him this afternoon, ranting about getting sick again."

Dwight laughed heartily.

"He's really a handful to deal with, isn't he?"

"Definitely!" he answered, and with a smitten smile on his lips he added. "I wouldn't have him any other way!"

"You're crazy, Jim, you know that, right?"

Both laughed and after Dwight had promised to take good care of Ross, they said their Goodbyes. Then Jim went to work on the house.

~~~

One week later, Jim entered the house, surprised to find his boyfriend on the couch in the living room, actually showered and dressed, even if it was only in sweat pants and undershirt. He had even managed to shave, although the dark shadows under his eyes were still a reminder of the insomnia he had suffered from during the last days. 

"Hey, you're up!"

Ross shrugged, one hand carding through the still wet strands of his curly dark hair.

"Yeah, watching cartoons and not even wearing proper clothes."

He snorted sarcastically and added, "still haven't managed a thing. I wanted to cook lunch, but instead I ended up having half a toast with jam."

He pressed his lips together and shook his head, being annoyed by himself to no end.

"Well, that's your first proper meal in days. And given the fact, that you've been not able to leave bed for a week, let alone making food or shower, I'd call it quite the progress."

Jim slumped down next to Ross, putting one hand over his; the one which clutched the remote control, zapping through the chanels frantically.

"Don't stress yourself too much, okay?"

"I just really fucking hate this!"

"I know. And yet, you can't change it. It's a medical side effect and not your fault. In a few days' time you'll be up and about again. Barking orders, stress over contracts and snap at your stupid boyfriend, who tried to kill you with a cat. Just your usual sunny self."

Ross snorted again, with amusement this time, turning his gaze to the smirking blond at this side.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

Jim, taking in Ross's shy smile and the insecure flicker in his eyes, did the one thing he knew would settle his boyfriend's worries in no time. He kissed him, with all the love and warmth he could give, showing that he didn't care about him suffering from these health conditions, that it didn't matter he needed one week to recover and that it was okay to need help from time to time. Ross, after indulging in the kiss for a few moments, wiggled himself free to pick up the thread again.

"And still, I can't believe you sneaked in a cat. It's the second time you tried to kill me."

Jim laughed, having expected that topic for a while now.

"Second time? When else did I try to kill you? Not counting the day, when I accidently let the hairdryer fall into the bathtub when you were still inside. That was an accident. It wasn’t even plugged in!"

"Our first date? Picnic in the park? In _fucking_ May?"

"I had no idea about the extent of your allergies by then. I only figured when you couldn't stop sneezing and, as soon as we got to your place, fell asleep due to the package of antihistamines you had eaten before."

"That was indeed embarrassing. But I really wanted to meet you. Wouldn't have thought you'd ever want to see me again."

"Why not? You're hot!"

"Yeah, hot and snotty."

"Yes, and that," Jim snickered. "You know, we would've never met if it weren't for your allergies, babe."

"And George Warleggan."

"You still think it was him?"

"Let me think about it. I go to a meeting, bringing nothing but a homemade smoothie with incredients I perfectly know I can eat. Then there's a break, I leave for the loo, then come back, take another two sips and, poooof, not only ten minutes later I'm looking like a damn pufferfish. So yes, I think it was him. I still don't know, what has gotten into you that day, asking out the one patient turning up at A&E all swollen and wheezing, looking like a German crump cake."

"I reckoned you were cute, once detumesced."

"I should write George a 'Thank you' card then?"

"Probably. Although, I'm stuck with those terrible mood swings now."

"Says the man, who threw a bowl full of soup after me, when I brought him tea of the wrong blend."

"Oh yeah, that. Come on, I was gravely ill with a man-cold, literally on the verge of death, and you brought mint instead of chamomile."

"Pardon my idiocy."

Ross bowed his head in a playful submissive manner and Jim was glad, seeing him actually doing better. A lot. He seemed to be out of the woods, thankfully.

"You know," Ross said in a small voice, intertwining their fingers and kissing Jim's knuckles, "I think, we're quite the match."

The blond smiled, all white teeth and dimples, and placed another kiss on the brunet's nosetip.

"We are, love, we are."

**Author's Note:**

> Please, feel free to visit my [tumblr]() and say Hi :-D


End file.
